neversremedy8: (Chick Might Get Out)
So. After [ profile] betsycontent, [ profile] lyonesse, and [ profile] aine_willows send various items [ profile] lotusdragon needs for Farm Camp. After wrangling with the organizers to figure out what was truly needful. After many sticker shocks and late night article writing to save up enough to pay for it. After [ profile] jodawi took us shopping for everything else she needed (and it wasn't cheap), I come in the house from painting furniture on the porch to find a message awaiting me from one of the counselors.

He's left a message saying that they didn't get enough people to sign up for Farm Camp in part because Seattle Public School District changed their schedule so that this year school starts before Labor Day instead of after, and they didn't know about it. He then went on to say that while Farm Camp isn't available, Fish Camp is, and they also managed to find some scholarship money and are offering me a $150 discount if we'd like to send her to Fish Camp instead.

The muscles in my arms sang with anger and the need to hit something. The items [ profile] jodawi purchased alone were as much as the camp cost in total. But I remained calm and called the man who left the message. He answered after a few rings, and in my most diplomatic move, I didn't reach through the phone and punch him in the face repeatedly.

After a cordial chat, with dear daughter present through it all, we established what Fish Camp entailed. He rattled off some things but said that it would still entail almost everything Farm Camp did, but with more fishing and crabbing. The camp in question was originally Hunting & Fishing Camp, but no one wants to hunt, which is good, because when [ profile] lotusdragon saw the web site for the camp before I called him, she was in tears at the thought of having to trap and kill rabbits, grouse, and other small critters. When she realized she'd only be murdering fish, and the counselor assured her that there would be "no stabbing" (that was one of her questions), she calmed down.

They're still holding the camp at the same location. They'll still spend time at two different farms, one near us, and one down in Puyallup. And as daughter put it, "I wanted to learn how to fish." So she's going to Fish Camp instead. No extra gear (beyond what was already purchased) required; they'll provide the tackle, rods, reels, and safety vests to the campers, and I get to keep a little bit of the money I worked so hard to earn.

So thanks again to [ profile] betsycontent, [ profile] lyonesse, [ profile] aine_willows, and [ profile] jodawi. The journey may be somewhat altered, but it will still be an experience for which you helped manifest in my daughter's life.
neversremedy8: (Too Much Style For Her Own Good)
[WARNING: Formatting may have gone out the window after posting here. Indentations were all proper in rtf file.]

How to Write an Outline

Writing an outline can help you plan what you want to say in a report, essay, or in structuring an argument. A traditional method for keeping track of threads of thought is to establish main ideas and then expanding on them in details using the following pattern of roman numerals, letters of the alphabet, and modern numerals: I., A., 1., a., i.

Most ideas that you want to organize into an outline for formal writing should not need to go beyond the lower case Roman numeral; if you find yourself needing to go further in depth on a subject, then you repeat the series indenting your connecting thoughts further at each level. To see the structure of an outline, indentation, and how they can be used, see the example.


Kelly's "Shoes"

I. Happy birthday twins!
A. Brother "Dick"
1. A computer
2. and a car
3. Thanks mom and dad
B. Kelly
1. A giant stuffed animal
a. What the hell?
b. What did you expect? Con-dams?
c. Nice present, Kelly.
i. Shut up, Dick.
ii. Skank.
iii. I'm gonna bitch slap you, shit bag.
C. Thoughts
1. Kelly: Shoes
2. Dick: Playstation
3. Dad: Fiscal responsibility
4. Mom: Tom Skeritt
II. Kelly where are you going?
A. Out
1. What are you going to do with your life?
2. I'm gonna get what I want
B. Shoes
1. Oh my god
2. Let's get some shoes
a. let's get some shoes
b. let's party
3. These shoes:
a. rule
b. suck
c. are $300
d. are 300 fucking dollars
i. let's get 'em
4. I think you have too many shoes
a. shut up
b. stupid boy
5. these shoes aren't going to fit
a. your feet are kinda big
b. oh
i. by the way, bitch
ii. fuck you
iii. those shoes are (fucking) mine bitch
iv. bitch


Aug. 6th, 2011 12:07 am
neversremedy8: (Mama Kitty)
Ana and I ended up in a conversation where I started to tell her stories of her early years, and it occurred to me after the fact that I was beginning to give her the stories she would later grow up with and tell others.

We had been watching Cotton roll around in delight because a couple of his toys were near one another, and I'd noticed for a couple of months now, his habit of dragging his toys into one place so he can hold onto and play with all of them at once. I mentioned that it reminded me of Ana as a toddler.

ME: You used to throw all your toys down on the floor, put them in piles, and lay on them, no matter how hard or sharp or pointy.
ANA: Yeah, they were comfortable.
ME: That's how I knew I definitely had a dragon, it's dragon-like behavior to horde your treasures and lay on them. You used to hide your toys in cabinets around the house, and at various times of the day, you'd pull all of them out at once, scoop them into piles, and lay on them!
[Ana laughed and seemed to recall it.]
ANA: I still do that sometimes.
ME: Do you remember that as a toddler you also ran your own daycare?
ANA: No.
ME: You did. You would take out all your dolls and you'd lay them on their tummies on receiving blankets. Then you'd lay baby blankets over them and pat each of them on their backs to comfort them for their naps.
ANA: I don't remember that.
ME: Well, you had your own preschool as a toddler, and you made sure every doll had a good nap.

Recently, we went through a box of memorabilia mostly related to my Grandpa Vin and Uncle Buzz. We went through Buzz's year book from high school and found pages and pages of him in there; he was incredibly popular. Not one person made a generic comment; many of them went on and on about how wonderful he was and how fortunate they were to have known him. He was voted as the senior male student with the greatest amount of school spirit, which surprised me that he wasn't the one voted most popular.

What I kept noticing, though, was not so much about him, but about people in general. There were still signs of a different social structure than we have today, certain social boundaries still being kept up and silent agreements about how people treated one another in a given way, but despite all their seeming intelligence and adherence to certain codes of ethics and behavior, most of them had as much trouble differentiating between "your" and "you're." I wasn't sure whether to feel disheartened or to think that maybe certain things hadn't become as awful linguistically as I once thought. Then again, I realized these are the parents of people who would later raise the current youth, a great many of whom have trouble differentiating between "your," "you're," and "ur" on formal papers.

But I digress . . .

The stories I'm telling Ana now are overdue. There are things that I have taken for granted in my life: my ability to parse out what people mean to say from their actual words, a trait I think I picked up in part due to my many bouts of temporary hearing loss from multiple ear infections. I also take for granted my role as parent, and assume that Ana should understand things through osmosis, she was, after all, inside me for nine months . . . shouldn't she have already gained all the knowledge previously learned up to that point? I take for granted my linguistic capabilities to breakdown unfamiliar words in English and in languages that use a Roman alphabet, and glean information about the meaning of those words, often enough so that I can understand the gist of a completely foreign statement. I take for granted that Ana should, after years of educational neglect on my part (even to this day), be able to comprehend the basics of what she reads, analyze it, and draw upon elven years worth of foundational knowledge--a foundation I did not truly help build and is quite obviously unstable.

I keep hoping that it's not too late; I also keep hoping that I'll somehow remember on a daily basis what I must do each day to support her education, not just academically, but on all levels and in all aspects of her life. It's very hard for me to stay consistent, to be proactive on a regular basis, to make the priorities in my mind, priorities on my daily schedule. Story telling is not ritual in our house as I believe it ought to be; many of Ana's communication difficulties might never have been had I made two very different choices in my early years as a parent: 1) controlling my temper and creating a different environment in which she could develop her voice, and 2) reading, singing, and telling stories more than I did.

In truth, I shirked my storytelling responsibilities; I did not make them a daily priority, I did not sing much for the first few years of her life, even though I wanted to, and I didn't sit down with her each day to guide her through the challenges of basic motor skills, behavior, communication, and life skills. These are failures in my parenting, flaws I'm still struggling with. Lately, homeschooling her has become a lesson for me in what mistakes I've made, and finding ways to solve them. The hardest part for me is still to be hands-on, to move away from my own inner world, my internet life, my writing, my hang ups, my own inner drama, and sit down for an hour or two each day and say, "here's what we're going to work on until I help you make sense of it."

Because I wasn't consistent with these things from day one, she's resistant to it. Add the early signs of puberty, and her resistance is greater. These are my challenges, the majority of their cause being my own failure to do the very basics of what was necessary to help her live up to her potential up to this point. In tiny ways I'm getting better. I see myself becoming more consistent in other ways, with my health, with maintaining the house, and with working toward a routine in my career goals. Now I must translate these forms of personal responsibility into meaningful work to do with Ana to meet my parental responsibility.

Ana reads constantly, and yet, I find that she does not read well. She may slide through a book and get some pleasure from it, but there are large gaps in her comprehension. This is known as functional illiteracy. A lot of this has to do with a combination of laziness (if it takes effort, she doesn't want to do it, no matter how great her original interest, e.g. robotics) and a fear of asking for help. My frustration with the former contributes to the sources of the latter. I don't abide laziness, lies, or stupidity (which I define as a choice to remain ignorant, where as ignorance can be cured with a desire to learn and gain knowledge), and all of these behaviors are rampant in the person most important to me in this world. All of these behaviors are in large part due to my own past actions and choices.

I continue to try to find ways to redirect her energy, to learn how to parent better, and to push myself to do what I know is necessary to implement the methods I feel will best support us as mother/teacher-child/student. When I realized tonight that lately I had been reminiscing with Ana about her early years, I believe it is a sign that I am beginning to better understand my role in her life and am becoming more active in making positive changes to guide her. I also believe that reminiscing together is an act of healing, one which is helping bring clarity to what is most needful and how to achieve the goals we set forth together.
neversremedy8: (A Little Help?)
As many already know, Ana has signed up for Farm Camp this summer. It will be the first time we'll be apart for a whole week, but it's a camp I'd love to attend and Ana gasped when she found out it existed (and near to our home).

We placed a deposit back in early spring and applied for a scholarship. However, because of little to no financial support, we still have a very large sum to pay. On top of this, the list of required supplies is overwhelming. I've managed to work it down to three lists to help me take it all in and avoid panic. I'm working on earning the money through article writing to pay the fee, but it'll be hard for me to provide everything else she'll need.

The camp has offered to help with supplies wherever possible, but we are asking here for consideration from friends and family on making sure that Ana can attend a camp she's extremely excited about. Her birthday is coming up, so if you're willing and able to purchase something for her, check out the "stuff we need help supplying, but don't want to borrow" list. It's stuff we don't want to borrow primarily because of hygiene issues, although some of the items could be second hand (not the underwear or socks). Also, we welcome any offers to borrow items on the "stuff we need to borrow list." These lists are summaries of what was given to us in greater detail (about five pages!) including notes I took from their recommendations.

Stuff we need to BORROW
small metal camping pot & cup*
sleeping bag w/ sack*
closed cell foam sleeping pad (pref. sq. fold-up, but roll-up ok)*
swiss army knife w/ spoon (also look for Frost Mora brand)
amber-colored uv protection sunglasses w/ strap (no nose rests)
thin leather gloves (tools and warmth)
sun hat with full brim
medium-gauge rain suit (jacket + pants)
pair of water shoes
rubber boots

Stuff we need help SUPPLYING
3 pairs long pants: 1. sturdy, comfie jeans; 2. thin khaki pants; 3. fleece sweatpants**
synthetic long underwear or comfie leggings
2 long-sleeve undershirts: 1. cheap synthetic "body glove"; 2. comfy cotton**
2 outer tops good in cold/wet weather: 1. button-down wool shirt; 2. fleece jacket/pullover**
6 pairs of underwear
6pairs of comfortable socks
2 pairs of wool/insulated socks req'd

*I have just put feelers out for these camping items on Freecycle in our area, but that's often hit or miss.
**These we might be able to find at Value Village or a similar second hand store or are willing to borrow from friends who don't mind such clothes getting dirty; she'll be on a farm, so anything loaned might suffer a little rough and tumble.

If you can help, please let us know right away so I can assess how much I have left to scrounge. If not, thanks for reading. ^_^

UPDATE: Thanks [ profile] lyonesse, [ profile] aine_willows, and [ profile] betsycontent for sending the items now crossed out above.
neversremedy8: (Vagina)
We just got back from the library, and I wanted to share a part of our walking conversation:

Ana: (talking endlessly about characters in a book) ". . . and he's destinied to--"

Me: 'Destinied?' Destined. (laugh)

Ana: Destined.

Me: 'Can I use 'companion' as a verb?'

Ana: (giggle) Yeah. When I'm president, I'm going to make 'destinied' a word.

Me: (nearly fell down laughing) You'll be the next Warren G. Harding!
neversremedy8: (Mocking You)
Craig and Ana were playing Mariokart together (again), and they'd unlocked some feature where they could both be Baby Peach. I should mention that Ana has taken to using a particular swear word when playing this game, and when I suggested an alternative, she struggled with it, and finally shouted, "I'm sorry, but it's not the same!"

But I was upstairs listening to them go on about their mad skillz, and I came down to see what they had accomplished when Ana get sideswiped by a number of NPCs. She shouted, "You don't know how to treat a baby or a lady!" I imagine she might have shaken her fist, except that her hands were on the Wii remote wheel.

After the laughter between Craig and I ended, and I'd made some comment about, "'Lady?' This from my daughter?"

She made some comment about how boys need to be nice to boys, and I asked, "Why?"

She rolled her eyes, thinking I was teasing, and I said, "No really, I'm serious. Why do boys need to be nicer to girls than they are to other boys?"

Ana avoided eye contact, sputtered a few times, and finally shouted, "You wouldn't understand!"

Craig looked at me, I looked at him. "I wouldn't understand?" I asked.

In the midst of our guffawing, Ana said, "What?!? Arrhhh!!!"

Poor kid, she must find it difficult having me as a mother. At least I gave her fair warning that I was blogging this.

neversremedy8: (Mr Flibble is Very Cross)
Last night, after spending the day transferring lots and lots of files from my current computer to the one Craig assembled for me, I spent an hour uninstalling programs and deleting files Ana would not need, since she's getting the guts of my old one. Or she was.

I'd gotten to the point where it was ready to do a disk clean up. Gwyn came by to keep me company, and I put him in my lap where he purred and nuzzled lovingly while I waited through the process.

It was a third of the way complete with the clean up (to be followed by a defrag), when Gwyn decided he was bored and jumped out of my arms, throwing all seventeen of his pounds into my computer's restart button.

The screen went blank, and when it rebooted, I got a black screen with a basic DOS prompt ... and nothing else. The BIOS screen said it recognized all of the drives hooked up, so it wasn't a loose wire, it just wouldn't load. Craig tried making a system recovery disk, but thus far, it's done nothing to recover the system. The only WinXP disks I have are what Craig calls "bullshit OEM" recovery disks that hobble the computer. I need a 32-bit version, but he only has a 64-bit version, and as we all know, Microsoft has screwed us out of a decent operating platform to make room for its shinier, but mentally challenged sister, Vista.

By the time I finished making our mutter paneer and salmon masala for dinner, I told him to stop for the night. As it stands, we can't figure out what step to take next, and Ana is still without a working system ... and I'd spent hours trying to make it pretty for her.

*sighs* So Gwyn is lucky to be alive, for if he had chosen to jump in a slightly different direction, Ana might have a functioning computer right now, and I could move on to other projects.
neversremedy8: (Insert Chinese Here)
Ana and I have talked many times about the daemons in Phillip Pullman's "His Dark Materials" trilogy. Most importantly, we talk about what we think our demons might be. While I like to think it would be a large cat--panther? tiger?--Ana is convinced mine would be a peacock. ;)

Today, Ana said her daemon would be a dragon, but I pointed out there weren't any mythical or other-worldly creatures as daemons in the books or movie. I suggested a Komodo Dragon instead. She wasn't sure she wanted some lizard representing her.

So I showed her some pictures. Like this one:

From this link: The Dragons Will Tear Us Apart

Most people think Komodo dragons are exotic holdovers from the dinosaur age that eke out a gentle existence while clinging to the precipice of extinction.
In fact, they are murderous swamp demons who will stop at nothing until we are all torn limb from limb.
Exhibit A: They have the word “dragon” right in their name.
Exhibit B: On Monday, a pair of komodo dragons mauled a 31-year-old Indonesian man to death.

When she asked (and I explained) what "maul" meant, she said, "Well, we all have to die sometime, right?"

My jaw dropped. "I don't have an innocent little girl, do i?"

She then proceeded to laugh like a mad scientist, and then announced she needed to get ready to see her friends next door.

What have I created?

EDIT: She just said, "I don't think I ever want to be a blonde."

*blink, blink*
neversremedy8: (Imperious)
Ana saw an ad for an MMORPG that included an image of a buxom blonde in flowing robes and the caption, "Save the Queen!"

Her response: "Don't save the Queen. She needs to learn to use a sword and save herself."


Nov. 11th, 2008 04:22 pm
neversremedy8: (Speaking with Spirit)
Last night I posted something in a rather narrow filter for only specific people to read about my feelings of inadequacy in various parts of my life. Today's post is was an evolution from the day before, all part of the process. I then responded to the comment on last night's post that I couldn't find the words for at that point. That comment seems like an important enough follow-up to the changes in myself that it deserves its own post. (Names eradicated to protect the successful.)
You didn't make me feel bad. I made myself feel bad by measuring myself against someone else. Please don't censor your sharing, it does help me more than I can say. If I see myself reflected in your words and find my reflection inadquate, it is not in any way your doing.

Recently I have reconnected with people of my past. G. is a successful actress and evey playwright (she just had a tour of her play), B. is now a man and a successful writer of erotic non-fiction, V. lived out her dream of being a fashion model and is now a rather successful photographer. And now you've made a major change in your life where you've followed the knowledge of exactly what you needed to do and went out to do it. Your (ally'all's) experiences are inspirational.

I just look at all of what each of you have achieved, and I feel that I don't have the same level of success. I may blame my choice to have a child young, or my procrastination, but I think a lot of it has to do with not being ready to accept my "good work" in this world. I think I don't see myself as successful, because I don't have the tangible, material success to show for it. I don't have a novel published, I didn't explore my acting abilities (assuming I really had any talent other than an early exploration into it), and I'm not living exactly they way I wished to be (not that I think anyone is necessarily living exactly the way you wish, but I mean to say that there is a great deal of resonance in each of your environments with who you are and what you do).

But I'm starting to wonder if my success is in claiming my good work, in realizing what I need to do and pursuing it. I got into a college pretty much on my essay alone--a college that rejected me out of high school despite my grades and extracurricular activities. Maybe they knew then what I didn't know: that I wasn't ready yet. Getting into university without having to work an outside job is a huge success, even if it's not as tangible as a published book or the royalties that come with it. Being aware of my flaws and working to change my behavior, a long process indeed, is a success of mine. I think I often feel like a failure in these areas because I want everything NOW and I want to be able to hold my success in my hands, not just have some abstract idea of achievement. You know?

Yes, you know.

I love you. Don't blame yourself or use this to censor your words. Be well.
And then there's something I can post later that I wrote about the very basic needs I have in seeing my own self-worth. I'll post it later, even if y'all're tired of reading my "oh-so-amazing-inner-revelations." ;)

Oh and tonight: Repo! The Genetic Opera Aren't I lucky? Ana thinks I am, and she backed it up with examples. Very cute examples. ^_^


Oct. 18th, 2008 07:53 am
neversremedy8: (Brains!)
Today is Ana's first Saturday morning drama class, since her Thursday class was cancelled due to low registration. (Why did I almost type "low voter turn out?") Just getting out of bed was dramatic enough. Can I go back now? *thump*
neversremedy8: (Not Enough)
She'd been sick for nearly two weeks, and I did all I could for her short of going to the vet (which I couldn't afford). Mimsy was quite the fighter, but last night I found her and thought she'd already died, so slowly did she react. Her body was cold and her belly distended, but she tried to lift herself up. I held her for half an hour, gently stroking her fur. With every breath, I could see it was a struggle and she convulsed every few seconds. I watched as she had to work to blink when my fingers stroked her head. I was careful of the red eyes looking at me trapped and helpless inside a dying body.

I knew I needed sleep, so I used my free hand and dug up a clean, warm sock and a clean washcloth and wrapped her in layers of thick cloth to help keep her warm. I pressed drops of water to her lips because I knew how thirsty she got. She wheezed at one point, an intake of breath that had, for a moment, a faint mousy squeak deep inside her throat. The last squeak she'd make. I set her up on a stack of books next to the bed, and pressed my fingertip to her tiny paw--it curled to meet me. I looked her in the eyes that watched me constantly and said, "Goodbye Mimsy." Then she stopped breathing, her tail no longer twitched, it was over.

I covered her completely with the cloth, and left her next to me by the bed. In my exhaustion, I still attempted to reach my spirit guides to help lead the mousy spirit on her way, but I fell into a fitful sleep. I dreamt of Holocaust children whose spirits haunted the school I'd started. I woke again and again, worried that I'd knocked her body aside in my sleep. When morning came, and with it, Gwyn, I wrapped Ana up in my arms and let the furry feline nuzzle her face. I told her quietly that Mimsy died in the night, that I'd held her and comforted her until she was gone. Ana curled up and moaned a little. She never cries when death arrives--it worries me--but she lay quiet for a while and pet the cat demanding her attention.

We'll bury the body this evening; at the moment it rests, now stiff from rigor mortis, in the pine bedding in which it lived. I've never been so close to anyone in the midst of her death throes, and these were as unpleasant as one could have--she was quite obviously in serious pain, and I contemplated a quick Kevorkian maneuver, but found I didn't have it in me. I could only play helpless nursemaid and stroke her fur and keep her warm.

At the end, it was a subtle realization that one moment there was life within the eyes that stared at me, and the next, just a warm corpse that did not move of its own accord. This is the most I've processed so far, but I felt some new awareness stir within the dark, thick depths of me that before this experience I didn't have. What that is ... I'm not sure.
neversremedy8: (Tea and Rain)
Ana's speech difficulties are 1) not my fault (huge weight lifted off of my shoulders that I didn't know was there) and 2) are not caused by any issues with the brain. She's fucking brilliant. I wish I could have recorded her responses. Even the evaluator was significantly impressed, and she meets hundreds of children every month. There were times when Ana answered the evaluator before she'd finished asking the question, she also just figured out what was expected of her without being asked and did it. Eventually she realized fully why the evaluator was writing her responses down and when she did it, and it caused her to fidget and get nervous. Her brow furrowed and she looked resentful of having her mistakes written down. But she still had fun with asking "why" questions and coming up with stories for pictures, even though she was just required to either point to things in a certain sequence or repeat/say words based on the pictures (or repeat parts of stories).

So what's wrong? Her hearing is fine, she has "excellent teeth" and comprehends fully what is around her(she is exceptionally observant, and I can finally see it and so many other attributes now that I've taken myself out of the situation and been able to observe her without interacting). The problem lies primarily in her adenoids. She is able to articulate mentally what she wants to say, she understands the language she wishes to use, but when her brain tells her mouth/voice/et al to operate and create those words, it gets cut up and comes out sounding rough and inarticulate. The constant congested sound quality of her voice is also caused by these enlarged adenoids, and it's directly affecting her self confidence and also causes her to fidget and seem unable to focus. She's so nervous and frustrated all the time!

The evaluator said that speech therapy is in order. Ana's primary problems are with articulation (because of the adenoids) and sentence structure, also partly due to the adenoids. There was a scientific term used to describe her condition, but since it was said only once, not familiar to me, and wasn't written down, I can't tell you what it is yet. I'll call them tomorrow when they're open again to get more inforamtion--we were there for two hours, so everyone else had left and closed the center down while we were still in the evaluation rooms (I was with the evalutor's trainee behind a two-way mirror).

Ana had both of us laughing in that back room, and the evaluator even said she was trying VERY hard to not laugh at some points. :) They commented on her beauty and her high intelligence, and I told Ana how proud I was of her. Some of the stuff Ana came up with just amazed me! I couldn't believe how inquisitive, observant, intelligent, intuitive, clever, and cunning she is. I knew she was smart, but there have been times when it seemed like there was nothing going on, when really it's simply a matter of it being too frustrating for her to speak because of this disconnection between brain and voice. She told the evaluator that some of the words for the pictures were "too hard" to say. She said she knew what they were, but "it's hard for me" she explained. *sighs* Poor thing. When she was misunderstood at one point, she refused to repeat what she originally used as a description and tried another way of identifying an object in the room--at first she'd said something like "brown-dog-box" but it came out garbled, and so she said, "that thing with the white handle."

Examples: Ana also spent extensive time coming up with--unnecessarily, but enjoyed by all--questions and stories about the pictures she was seeing, and explaining what she knew about certain items on the cards. Like why roses have thorns, and such. When she was asked to point to "some tigers" in a zoo picture, Ana pointed to one, and the evaluator turned the page. Ana stopped her and corrected herself, saying, "one is not 'some.'" The eval. asked if she wanted her to redo it, and so Ana pointed to two of the three tigers and said, "that is 'some.'" During one section she was required to repeat portions of a story she was listening to, mostly the dialogue at the end of each page, and not only did she do as well as she could (with her usual speech problems in tow), but she mimicked the eval's tone of voice and inflection on each word. So impressed, and I told her as much when we left.

So, the brain is healthy. Everything else can be overcome.

* * * * *

I need to get to bed, but I've been procrastinating terribly. Despite having far more pressing matters on my to do list, I'm going through my LJ archives and tagging them. To make matters worse, I ran across this link: join my procrastination hell.

I hope my child gets sent home for something like this:
I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United Federation of Planets, and to the galaxy for which it stands, one universe, under everybody, with liberty and justice for all species. (see link for the entire story) And yes, we should all buy the t-shirt. Ana should have one in her size. Damnit. I need a job. Or a sugar daddy. Or lottery winnings (it would help if I bought a ticket). Or something.

Oh, and I have 11 new icons. That means I had to delete 11 former icons, all of which I loved to have. *sighs* Change is hard. Even when it's just LJ icons or cut hair or my child going to Kindergarten. Wait. Scratch that last one. That one's big. May she always find creative ways to rebel and subvert the system and still come out with a decent education!

And now, a poll to apologize for the long, long, long post without a cut:

[Poll #518453]

I apologize now should anything be misspelled. For truly I am tired. Very tired. Small 'mount of depression seeping into my veins. A good night's rest may help. Love, hugs, and kisses to all. Especially those who are dearest to me. I am blessed, I'm just not very happy with the way I'm handling my life. Love, love, love.

Oh, and my favorite (calm/quiet) Beatles song: Dear Prudence (although there are many tied for runner-up)
neversremedy8: (Lover of Rogues and Artistic Miscreants)

I awoke to a restless child and the sound of rain. The smile had yet to fade from my lips. Last night was magical and charming, and still I swoon from it.

"They kissed until the kissing became a torture and the body grew restless."
--Anais Nin, Delta of Venus

We must return again to the park, this time armed with carrots and lettuces to show the bunnies that we are not silly humans, but bunny caretakers.

For those in Seattle looking for a good restaurant to try: Tango on 1100 Pike St. Spanish and Portugese food. Avoid the pickled vegetables on the ceviche list. Order "El Diablo" for dessert and be prepared for anything the devil might want to do to you.

Find me in my field of grass
Mother Nature's Son
swaying daisies sing
a lazy song beneath the sun
neversremedy8: (Playful Sensuality)
::giggles:: She's sooooo cooooot!

I'm sitting here finishing up the work I need to do for tomorrow's deadline, and hear Ana calling out, "Hi, mama! Hi!" I turn to say hello, and she's got her back to me, eyes closed, and is patting the pillow as if her hand's on my back. One leg was kicking out behind her repeatedly. I said, "Hi, Ana," and she calmed down, rolled toward my pillow with the blanket tucked around her and fell back into deeper sleeping. ::giggles:: I swear she gets cuter by the day. She's cuter than a basket of kittens tugging at each other's ears. She's cuter than that baby panda rolling around with a ball on PBS. She's cuter than Moe on Vern. Um. Nevermind. Hehehehe. Ok, it's after midnight. I should get some sleep. My "fuck it" day is over, and tomorrow I have to get back to driving myself nuts with constant work and toil. At least I don't have to go downtown until next week, but that means I'll be paying my own bus fare this weekend and Monday. Why does Maria keep calling to tell me she'll be in the office until noon when she knows I don't even get off work until two? ::rolls her eyes::
neversremedy8: (Default)
Well, I just got my hug . . . ::sighs:: A certain little Squeaker, caming (literally) squeaking into this room (she insisted on sleeping with her squeaky shoes on). She's wearing a pale pink onsie, a hot pink scarf, her dark blue mittens, and her white and red Hello Kitty shoes. I've talked to her about her fashion statements, and though I make suggestions for a different combination of clothing, she coordinates the way she wants to sometimes. Silly baby. ::smiles::

I shouldn't put myself down too much... I may not have been working on *the* story, but I'm two-thirds of the way through on the Hotel California story. I just have to work out an ending that makes sense . . . and isn't too cliche. Hmm . . . endings are such a bitch! But I'll get through it, really. I knew I could do it when I wrote a short story (beginning, middle AND end) and sent it into a contest. No, I didn't win, but I FINISHED THE STORY. That's the important part. We'll look right past the fact that the Stranger's editorial staff loved my story but still didn't choose it. Why? Not for me to question. But if you'd like to write letters of protest, feel free. ::smiles wickedly::

Why are we put here, filled with all of these stories and ideas, and then find our writing implements (namely our brains) broken and lacking in the connections needed to take what's inside and present it to the world exactly as we envision it? I feel the same way about my drawing, my dancing. Is it just me? I mean, there's a reason writers are driven to drink and use drugs, right?

It's all words, all meaningless, so why the persistent push to write? Maybe some of us don't want to worship at the altar of words, and yet I feel myself being made to kneel, to light the incense, to pray to the holy gods of language. Bah! I feel like such a Tomfool! Where's Enaen when you need him?
neversremedy8: (Default)
Ana is sick again, and I'm keeping her home today. I have a doctor's appointment set up for later today, just in case she seems to still be in bad shape. She's been much happier today, but she's still tired and she won't eat.

I finally sent my request off to Ave, asking her to consider drawing some of my main characters and maybe some cover art, too. I think it would help keep my mind on track. Although, every time I look at the pictures of Eiri Yuki on my wall, I think of Aithne, and feel the pain of loving a fictional character all over again.

Gahh! It's so frustrating! And I don't really want to work on the story again until I have a computer to work on regularly. After the previous frustration of finding out that months of handwritten material was practically useless (from all of my screw-ups), that I haven't done much actual *writing* of the story since November.

Of course, I have been re-organizing, I'm placing sections of language and slang in their own notebooks, I've got a long outline of the main storyline up on my wall . . . I'm doing everything BUT writing the damned story! ::laughs:: I did get the rough draft of the intro out of the way, but I look up into Eiri's eyes, and I feel so unworthy to be writing about Aithne, Eila, and the rest of them. At this rate, The Taking of Eila Corbin may not take off, it's somewhat timely since our timeline happens not too far from 2000.

I need someone to whip me along, forcing me to pour out what I know is in me . . . somewhere DEEP in me . . . When I tap into that well I can create magnificence, but lately, it's drudgery, trying to get through part two of a book I find so painful. But it HAS TO GET OUT! The following books we have ideas/plans for are so wonderful, but it doesn't do me any good to try to write them until I have the first one out and over with. I have to make sure my continuity checks don't bounce.

And, ohhh . . . I think pretty-Raoul has a LiveJournal account, but I'm waiting for an e-mail response before I can confirm it. Mmmm . . . he's so "tasty" (as Roy would say), and I loved each and every time I got to nuzzle/snuggle him. I wish I weren't so damned afraid of Canthe? Is he still even with her? ::reality slap:: Oh, yeah, Ana . . . like I have time to be that social right now, anyway. Phooey! Ah, but the thoughts keep coming . . . ::purrs::

Yes, Mom, I do need to get laid! Got anyone in mind? I mean, besides the pretty boys in Germany and Monaco you keep mentioning, anyone in say, the greater Seattle area? ::wink, wink, nudge, nudge:: Promise, I won't hurt them . . . much. ::smirks:: I don't think I could remember to be gentle at this point. ::giggles::

Somehow, I don't feel like I've said what I really must, and yet I'm not sure what it is. Everything above feels so trite right now, and I'm feeling jittery. Wonder why. ::shrugs:: If my throat didn't hurt right now I might go meditate and find out, but, blah! I keep swinging from powerful goddess mode to confused mortal, from shinging bright within my centre to worthless obsessive freak. Maybe I should take Eiri Yuki's picture down from my relationship corner. I find myself looking up and feeling totally worthless. God, but that's insanity! I'm worried what the picture of fictional character thinks of me! ::shakes head:: I can't wait for Ana to wake up, I could use the hug . . .

And no, I'm not depressed, just . . . wandering around in my thoughts and emotions, trying to find my balance.
neversremedy8: (Default)

Take the Which Powerpuff Girl Are You? Test.

Wow, Bubbles! You're hardcore! ::bounces::


Why, it only took me two days and a lot of Ana crying and throwing fits for me to figure out she's TEETHING! Two big, sharp canines are coming up from the bottom, and she's not having a very happy time of it. ::raspberries the air::
neversremedy8: (Default)
...and writers bearing sell sheets and press releases. ::sighs::

Well, Ana's got an ear infection, I've got *something* making me feel lousy, tomorrow's my welfare review (though I don't know whose welfare they're concerned with).

Sitting before me are several pages of "How to's". How-to write a sell sheet (what, am I a prostitute?), how-to write a press release, how-to write a query letter, and how-to set up a book signing. All of them scare the crap out of me.

Speaking of feces, Ana decided tonight it was a great idea to take off her diaper, hand it to David, hang on to the coffee table and release waste all over the living room carpet. Of course, I was in the kitchen at the time, and unable to stop this from happening. Clean-up was most fun. ::big smile, like you mean it::
David reports it was the most shocked he's been in a long time (keep in mind she did it *right* in front of his view). What a protest!

Peach pits.

Animaniacs: "Mr. Churchill, may we jump up and down on your stomach?"
Churchill: "OK"
Animaniacs: "Boingy-boingy-boingy"
(And then Stalin wanted to join in)
Stalin (deeper voice): "Boingy-boingy-boingy"

So, no, I'm not well in my mind, I'm finding my hair in the drain after one bath, and I think I need a little stress-releaser... mom says I need to get laid, Roy confers. (He attributes my recent fires to the amount of sexual frustration I'm accumulating... he's probably right.)

As for the Year of the Horse, I was mortified to discover I was wrong when I went shouting out that it starts on the second of February... it doesn't. Yes, Candlemas (Brigit, Imbolc) is scheduled for that day, but the New Year doesn't start until the 12th! Ahhhhh! Someone help me!

SprintPCS is trying to screw me (still), they confirm that they sent the check (a month after my Voice Mail message said they would), but it should have only taken 3 business days... it's been *much* longer. (In case you don't know, I had a SprintPCS phone for ten days and sent it back with angry protests. It worked great as a date book, an address book, a secure informational storage unit, but not as a phone. I sent it back, and was supposed to receive a reimbursement check for my initial payment sometime at the end of August... it's January, and I still don't have the check!)

If Sprint PCS wants to screw me, why don't they come over and do so! Argh, I'm going to turn back into a pumpkin on the 28th, and I don't see anyone around here named Peter ready to eat me! ::smirks::

Received a VERY nice card with cute pictures of Mike and Marcie, two friends from EQ, hopefully I'll remember to write to them soon and thank them... if not, at least I posted my thanks and gratitude here! Oh, and a very loud "awwww...." for the picture of them together. The biggest smiles you ever saw.

I should go now, leave David to his computers, relinquish them back and never return... well, not never, but not soon.... well, maybe soon, but... Forget it! I'll be back here slavering all over the keyboards as soon as I can. I'm such a computer junkie, I really act like such a drug addict. Each use is like a little fix. ::slaps vein:: Just plug me in!!!
neversremedy8: (Default)
You're Rikku! You love to be with those dear to you. You're resourceful; a little stealing never hurt anyone! You try to help whenever you can, even if it means going against your own personal believes and desires. Friends come first! like thinks that go BOOM.
Which Final Fantasy X Character would YOU be? Take the test.

OMG! She looks so much like a character I created for one of our stories... ooh... ::bounces::

Hmm... Wonder if Sera even bothered to read my messages here. Ah, well... it's her choice to be a bad parent, but she can't hide forever. There will come a point soon when I'll just send in the paperwork necessary to say, "Naw, she changed her mind, she doesn't want to see our daughter." ::sighs:: Mom's right, I can't expect Sera to become responsible, even for Ana... Well, Ana doesn't seem to mind, she has lots of good people in her life to help influence and shape her. Later, she may realize that her other parent didn't want to take time for her, and it will cause sadness and a little hurt, but at least the disappointment won't persist as it does now. ::sighs:: I just wish Sera would grow up... at least enough to be responsible a few hours a week. Is that really so much to ask? Apparently so...

BLAH! I won't let this get me down! ACK! Toddler+lotion=BIG MESS ON DAVID'S BED!!! Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!

::wipes forehead:: Disaster averted, toddler silly, mommy silly. :P

E says: Misses Sera, Cyn, mommies, wishes she'd be nice ... wishes we were all together an happy

I know Eve-y, ALL WILL BE WELL... We'll get through this... This too shall pass over. ::Phhhpppppp:::


neversremedy8: (Default)

May 2017

 12 3456
7 8910111213


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 20th, 2017 05:34 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios